


In Search of Kings

by Lilydancer



Series: Cum-Addict!Arthur-verse [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilydancer/pseuds/Lilydancer





	In Search of Kings

  
**Title:** In Search of Kings ****  
'Verse: Cum-addict!Arthur  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Spoilers** : None.  
 **Warnings** : Possible dub-con, reference to non-con, young!Arthur (well 13), Arthur/Other  
 **Wordcount** : 2,520  
 **Summary** : Written for the following prompt at [](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/profile)[**kinkme_merlin**](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/) : _Arthur/Merlin, Arthur is a cum-addict because he's been sucking cock since he was young. Merlin tries to satisfy his cravings. Bonus points for a scene involving Merlin jerking off into Arthur's dinner and Arthur eating it with his fork and spoon. Would really love it if this plot remained in canon instead of AU or modern day._ Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/5454.html?thread=2129742#t2129742).  
 **Author's Notes** : Thanks to those who commented on the kink meme and especially to [](http://users.livejournal.com/tarot_card_/profile)[**tarot_card_**](http://users.livejournal.com/tarot_card_/) for hoping I would de-anon. Thanks also to the OP for the prompt!

 

Arthur had been 13 the first time he took a cock into his mouth. He and Lord Pendlehurst’s youngest son, Peter, had been fumbling around in the stables, hiding together to avoid training and in matching rebellious moods. Peter was two years older than Arthur but almost famous for his sexual exploits, which were the talk of most of the knights and all of the squires and not quite completely concealed from those who should never have to hear of such things. Only children under 12 managed to escape whispered rumours about Peter’s latest conquest; his latest tutor or tutee in the midnight hour.

 

At 12, Arthur would have been grateful if he’d known what he didn’t know. At 13, he needed to prove to his father that he was a man, and a man who could become king at that. He felt embarrassed to have missed it, to not have seen and understood what had been going on between Peter and a number of men and women who passed by the castle.

 

And the men – the Knights, even - seemed to look up to Peter, to admire him. Arthur would need them to look on him as worthy, as a man and a leader, and Peter had that. For now, Arthur was just a squire, Prince or no. But he was determined to prove himself both on the training ground and off; today he chose off, tomorrow he would excel on it too.

 

There had been a few quiet fumblings with Peter before now; palming at each other, Peter teaching Arthur how to use his hand on another body, the little tricks he was barely starting to discover he liked himself that would coax a reaction from a partner. Arthur had asked Peter to teach him and Peter had been thorough; and only a little gold had been needed to keep Peter from prattling away to others about teaching the Prince how to touch a man. Arthur was starting to feel uncomfortable with the arrangement – Peter seemed to enjoy having power over him a little too much – but he wanted to learn and didn’t know where else to go. He’d already taken a risk with this. Yet a desperation burned beneath his chest; a longing to be a man, and a Prince and son his father could be proud of. And Arthur could think of nothing else that men had and talked about and demonstrated that children, boys, did not. So this was what he would do; and if he needed to change the arrangement he would do so when the time came.

 

But this time when he curled his fingers around the hot weight of Peter’s prick, a hand curled around his wrist and Peter’s mouth was at his ear, whispering of other things men did to each other; of how good it felt when a mouth was wrapped around your cock.

 

Arthur jerked back, almost stumbling. He stared at Peter in shock. Put his mouth on…? Take it between his lips?

 

His gaze moved to settle on Peter’s hard cock, taking in the length and width of it. Arthur had felt a sharp, bitter tang of revulsion at the first mention of the idea, but as Peter made no apology and did not admit to joking, Arthur gathered that men probably really did do this to each other. And he wanted to be a man. He didn’t have to do this – a few extra coins and Peter would all but forget that the Prince had ever clapped eyes on his naked body – but he would. Knights must have courage, after all, and kings must make decisions and take advice from those with greater expertise.

 

As he settled on his knees in straw and hay and the general detritus of the stables, Arthur flushed. He felt acutely aware, now, of the way this arrangement was skewing the rightful balance of power between himself and Peter – of the power Peter had over him. It was not a feeling Arthur liked.

 

But he would learn. He could reassert himself later.

 

Under Peter’s guidance, Arthur tentatively moved closer to flick his tongue over the tip of Peter’s cock. He ignored Peter’s instruction to place his lips around it with his teeth covered because that seemed complicated and this was new and awkward and he was the Prince and could do as he pleased.

 

The salty taste of pre-cum assaulted his tongue and he drew back. It was an odd taste; Arthur wasn’t sure he liked it much but he supposed he could tolerate it.

 

So that was one less unknown in the situation. Now to try for what Peter had actually instructed.

 

Arthur took a minute with his own finger in his mouth to figure out how to cover his teeth, exactly, and was surprised to find it less difficult than it sounded. Never let it be said that he did not give something his all and work hard for it. Peter rolled his eyes at Arthur’s hesitation but said nothing.

 

Opening his mouth, Arthur slid his lips around Peter’s cock. It felt wider between his lips, awkward and too big, and he pulled back again; adjusted so that he had a better angle to open his mouth more comfortably. As Peter ground out instructions for Arthur to relax his jaw and take Peter’s cock deeper, Arthur quietly obeyed, blushing and quietly ashamed of taking orders in this way but still determined. It was humiliating to service the youngest son of a noble he’d spoken to at dinner the previous night, but he had also asked to be taught; so he would lessen the humiliation by doing well. He had to.

 

He brought his hand up to cover where his lips couldn’t reach, took a few tries to get it moving with his mouth but managed it, and sucked when ordered. Peter had barely reacted beyond quietly pointing out what he wanted – what Arthur should do – but Arthur could hear that his voice was starting to get strained and his breath hitched when he sucked just a little harder. Experimenting, Arthur concentrated on trying to swirl his tongue around the head, not sure if it could work but curious. When Peter groaned, Arthur struggled not to grin too much around the cock in his mouth and tested what would happen if he moved his tongue just so, or sucked a little less or more, or twisted his fist below his lips. Peter had stopped issuing instructions; above Arthur, his breath came in pants and moans, and his fingers were clenched in Arthur’s hair.

 

And something shifted for Arthur. It didn’t seem humiliating anymore; Peter didn’t have the power anymore. Arthur was starting to think he could be good at this.

 

He bobbed his head faster, aware of Peter’s legs trembling on either side of him and Peter’s heavy breathing loud between the shuffle of hooves and the snickers of the horses. It was completely by accident that Peter’s muttered ‘God yes’ tugged a hum from Arthur’s throat, but with that hum Peter was coming and Arthur’s mouth filled with pulses of bitter liquid that he swallowed mostly for lack of knowing what else to do. It tasted of salt and power and achievement and even as Arthur still couldn’t quite say he liked the taste, exactly, he liked what it meant; that he’d succeeded in making Peter come; that he was succeeding in learning these things; that he was closer to being a man and not just a boy anymore. The taste made him proud.

 

As he pulled away, Peter slumped on the floor breathing harshly for long minutes before they decided to rejoin the training session.

 

**

 

Over the next few months, the taste of cum grew on Arthur. At first it was only Peter’s, and Arthur began to notice that if he’d had a bad day, the knowledge that he could do this and do it well took the edge off even his father’s criticism. He started to seek Peter out on these days, and Peter never complained. Sometimes, if rumours reached him that Arthur’s day had not been good, he would even seek Arthur out before Arthur could search for him.

 

But on one such day, Peter was not there. He had returned home for his father was ailing, and Arthur was frustrated and tired and humiliated by the dressing down his own father had given him in front of the entire court. He had felt like a small child again, powerless and a disappointment. After an hour of pacing his chambers, of mock fighting and of reducing a training dummy to shreds, he felt no better. If Peter had been there, the taste of his cum would have reminded Arthur that he was more than just the Prince; more than just his father’s son. Would have soothed the frayed thread of his raw nerves.

 

So he sought out Adam, who he knew from Peter to be discreet and loyal enough that he might not even want payment to keep quiet. Arthur was surprised that even though Adam’s cum tasted different from Peter’s, it tasted every bit as good, carried all the same associations of success and pride; and Adam was vocal and responsive. Arthur was feeling much more confident when they parted ways.

 

Between then and his fifteenth birthday, Arthur slowly built a network of people to whom he could go in times of stress; people who were honoured by the Prince’s services and from whom he tasted achievement and admiration. It became his habit to seek out one or other of these people at least once or twice a week, just to keep the edge off things, and more often when he felt the need. All were discreet – losing the trust of the next king of Camelot was not a price worth paying – and most could have easily been paid off if they had lost interest in discretion. More importantly, Arthur started to choose people with ties to Camelot – people who could not expose his acts to his enemies or those at court who would disapprove. Choosing this circle of people and making decisions involving them reassured him outside of their sexual encounters; being able to manage them made Arthur more confident in his ability to one day rule the kingdom.

 

But it was not until he was fifteen that he began to realise how important the sexual aspect of the arrangement was to him. At fifteen, having received his knighthood barely a month earlier, he was thrust into leadership and left in charge of training the Knights of Camelot.

 

Arthur visited 3 of the people he trusted most that night, and did not feel calmer until the cum of the third slid down his throat. In the next morning’s training, that same person was nicked by another man’s sword. It was not a serious injury – small cuts and bruises were part of the day-to-day routine of training – but it settled in Arthur’s mind. Most of those people he went to for relief were now under his command. He might one day order them to die for him.

 

Relying on them as he did now, Arthur knew he would not be able to do that. And he knew that he could not fail Camelot because of his own needs. That was not an option. He would be king, but before then he would lead men into battle. He could fail Camelot without even taking the crown.

 

That night, he visited every member of his network. He thanked them all, rewarded them as best he could, and went to his chambers with his throat burning for cum and tears prickling at his eyes. For two weeks, he snapped and snarled at those around him. He picked out which servants might do well to replace his network in a lust-filled haze and in moments of desperation before bed only to discard them in the morning without ever mentioning the idea to them. Everyone knew of Lady Annwin, who would probably never be married after her father’s manservant had revealed that he had given her sex only because he feared for his job if he said no. Everyone knew of her brother, who had been engaged until the scandal emerged. And Arthur knew the precise sum of money paid to that manservant to stop him spreading the story, and of the futility of that money for the story had already been well-known enough to spread without the manservant needing to share it.

 

Most servants probably wouldn’t have the courage to expose the situation. But in the back of his mind, Arthur thought that probably made it worse rather than better.

 

Arthur had even tasted his own cum one night, desperate to ease the knowledge of every small failure and every cold word from his father. It was not as good – there was no pride in making himself come as there was in doing the same for others – but the taste was similar, sharp and salty, and it cooled his longing like a soothing balm on a throbbing wound.

 

He tried bedding a woman next – perhaps it was the knowledge of success he needed, rather that the taste of another man’s cum itself? It was common knowledge that one of the whores in town was blind, and he easily shrouded himself in a cheaply-bought cloak and the shadows of a cloudy night. His identity remained hidden.

 

But though Arthur learned quickly, the sweeter, softer taste was off-putting and after returning home he resorted again to his own cum, licked from his fingers until he couldn’t taste even a hint of it on his skin.

 

**

 

Arthur got used to using his own cum when he needed to, but he needed to often because although the taste and thick texture reminded him of making other people come down his throat, it just didn’t give him that lingering sense of accomplishment, of succeeding where his father’s judgement didn’t matter, of proving himself to himself. He’d slipped up occasionally and asked old friends for a repeat of what they’d known before his fifteenth birthday. Those few times and the memories of the times before kept his need smouldering beneath his skin where he felt it should have flickered and died to cinders and charcoal. It should have been a thing of the past; he should have been able to control his emotions better as the years idled by.

 

Yet he continued to ache for it. He found Merlin, who didn’t understand it but gave Arthur what he needed. Merlin, whom he trusted completely and had more power over than any of the others he’d tasted even as Merlin held more power than Arthur could comprehend.

 

Merlin, who had shared his secrets with Arthur at the risk of his own life. Merlin, who had been making little blue lights dance and chase each other above their heads when Arthur had blinked awake that morning.

 

Merlin, who accepted Arthur as he was – his weakness for cum included – and allowed him to keep his own secrets.

  



End file.
